Mourners On The Streets

The Pakistani Taliban TTP (Tarek-e-Taliban Pakistan) have a new leader, Mullah Fazlullah. He was the commander in Swat during their terror regime from 2007 to 2009 and had the nickname "Mullah Radio" as his hate speeches were constantly flowing on air at the time. On his account goes the recent killing of Major General Sanaullah, the army commander in Malakand/Swat. Still in Afghanistan at the moment, he will have to live up to Hakimullah's charisma to be able to keep together the fragile network of TTP affiliated organizations. A decentralization would further split them on the question of talks with the government, but hardly limit the threats of terror attacks to be expected in their competition to gain authority among the groups.


The days of Muharram have begun - Ashura, remembering and mourning the martyrdom of Hussein, one of Prophet Muhammad's grandsons, who was killed in Karbala (today Iraq) - bring impressive processions of Shia Muslims, mostly dressed in black attire, beating on the chest and the back, some even scratching their head with sharp blades until blood runs down their faces.
The security forces in Pakistan are on high alert during these days, many roads are closed all over the country, all mobile services are shut down and no one is allowed to witness processions from rooftops. Massive search operations lead to the discovery and seizure of arsenals of arms and ammunition that were to be used against Muharram processions, several planned attacks throughout the country could be prevented thanks to these efforts.

Nevertheless, in Rawalpindi, a city of three million inhabitants, violence costs nine lives and dozens of injured, prompting the army to step in and take over the responsibility for the security. The city is now under curfew.

What means roaming the streets chanting for some, even if not quite happily, means home confinement for others, such as us diplomats, as all plans and invitations are simply wiped out by the security team! As there is no way of observing what is going on outside, but through the medias who report thousands of mourners gathering at their annual route in Islamabad, my thoughts wander with the Shias to Karbala twenty three years back, when I was pushing my baby daughter Carla in a stroller on the rough square in front of the golden plated and turquoise tiled mosque. Ardent sun heated the air into shimmering layers as some boys played with buckets full of water, women passed by wrapped in their black Abayas and the men in their colorful suits and hats from different islamic cultures. It was our last excursion as a young family in Baghdad, where we were posted at the time, before we left for the much longed for summer break - a break from the relentless heat, that turned out to be a break without end, a vacation without return…

Only a few weeks later, the ongoing agony of the people of Iraq began, with two Gulf wars following the Kuwait crisis - and after twenty three years still no end to the sufferings in sight, but the interest of the world and the main protagonists during that period has vanished.

Luckily in the last days before Muharram brave friends from Switzerland overcome all worrying and well meaning discouragements from family and friends, board the plane and head for a visit - though with no travel guide in their luggage, as there was not a single one in German about Pakistan to be found, but the one "Kultur Schock Pakistan".
We visit Taxila, an ancient and important Gandhara place near Islamabad, where a group of young Pakistanis play Cricket, completely unimpressed on top of a precious excavation site dating back three thousand years - still waiting to be dug.

Nearby a few men hammer relentlessly mortars out of the local grey stone - being sold to grind spices and grains. We consider them a little too bulky to offer them as souvenirs to our guests, weight of luggage is sadly limited these days by the airlines...

The journey with our friends continues to Rawalpindi - "Pindi Windi" and twin city of Islamabad, the older twin - and the plan is a walk through the old bazar. Plans have their own dynamics here and the casual stroll turns unexpectedly into a sprint through the stalls in company of Sheikh Rashid Ahmed with well armed guards around us. We are his guests and that will remain no secret, as it will be aired on television and print media, a surprise at least to us visiting guests! The ladies are not given the chance to spend a single rupee though, as on the first stop a vendor slips on our arms numerous glass bangles in a few seconds and with full force, as our arms unfortunately lack the fineness of Asian wrists and generously offered as a gift.

As we ask about the gold jewelry shops, we are allowed to enter one for approximately five seconds, leaving the vendor perplex and not knowing if that was a clever manouvre to save our lives from an unseen danger or the content of our husbands' purses.

On our hurried "walk" the Sheikh guides us through old alleys to his properties - some of them left and abandoned by Hindu families leaving for India during partition in 1947 - and arrive at one of the buildings that he has donated to a women's college. As over time whole trees have been happily growing out of the cracks of the old ruin, one wonders, if sleeping beauty will ever awake to new life.

The heat has definitely eased up giving way to this wonderfully bright light and crisp air - time for the upholsterers to refresh the cotton fillings of the warm winter mattresses!

Two "Maharanis" in Lahore

Prime Minister Shariff embarks on two much anticipated official visits - one over the Atlantic and the other crossing the Channel. The setting on the photos sent back home change from traditional elegance with a fireplace between the posing protagonists (hoping, the lack of a warm fire in it is merely the expression of a mild autumn day in Washington) to the more austere look of regal British office atmosphere, a black vase with a few yellow and pink flowers between the two beige armchairs (no obvious abundance in that regard). The comments on the outcome vary, but agree there is not much news to be reported - the lingering issues being put on the table awaiting further discussions.

The drones are for sure one of them and a heated discussion flares up on the number of civilian casualties of the strikes that have been reported by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to range between 400 and 600 and the Ministry of Defence that counted 67 civilian casualties. Neither Amnesty International, nor the UN or the Pakistani government has had any investigators on the ground in the drone hit areas to gather reliable datas. No media has been allowed access and only personal accounts of affected family members and communities tell about their suffering.

Imran Khan, whose party runs the government of Khyber Pakhtunkwa, the hardest hit area by militants, presents a documentary (produced by his former wife Jemimah Khan), which tells the personal stories of affected people who suffered losses in their families, about their own injuries and the psychological fall out.

Only a few days later the news about a drone strike killing Hakimullah Mehsud, the leader of Tehreek-e-Taliban, hits the country like a bombshell. He was caught in his recently built house with green lawns and marble floors, a fatal desire to settle - at least in between - into a more bourgeois lifestyle, obviously not advisable for a target of his stature.
The government is taken by surprise - a delegation on its way to get in touch with the TTP leadership about opening talks was being stopped right before the attack at the border to North Waziristan - and the statements express anger about the "sabotaged peace talks" and Imran Khan's party PTI threatens to choke the Nato supply routes to Afghanistan.
Infamous for his cruelty and bloody attacks especially against Pakistani security forces, his military skills and leadership abilities, called the "King of Terror", he is now laid to rest in a secret ceremony in order to avoid the funeral being the target of another drone strike and the TTP Shura is assembling to appoint a new leader today - the country holds its breath in anticipation of retaliation attacks.


More tensions erupt in divided Kashmir along the 740-kilometre Line of Control, that divides the larger Indian controlled part from the smaller Pakistani Northern part of the region across mountaintops and glaciers. Both countries claim the entire region for themselves and three wars have been waged between Pakistan and India - Kashmir appears to be a fortress, with allegedly half a million soldiers stationed by the Indians alone in Jammu Kashmir. The majority of the population are muslim, but in 1947 the maharaja requested military support from New Delhi and joined the Union of India after an attack from Pashtun tribal warriors from Pakistan. The people of Kashmir are paying the price for the dispute.

The old city of Lahore - an illusive dream to reach the hidden treasures and spots, the walled old town during official visits, sadly, but to the rescue comes the hospitality of the Protocol of the Foreign Ministry! Melted down from a larger group of spouses, we two remaining sisters in adventure embark on a tour that fulfills many of our dreams and lifts us in a former Maharaja's palace, where we are expected by a sumptuous "welcome snack" and servants asking for dresses to be ironed! No, no need, we left the elaborate silk saris at home, but ask for ice and orange juice instead later in the evening, as we chat into the night between the columns and under the starry sky on the terrace. He would bring both at the same time - which then takes quite a while... We wonder, until we learn that he pedaled with his bicycle to find an open shop in town to get the juice (I will certainly remember that experience one day with great nostalgia...)!

Walking through the walled inner city, where the small streets and alleys along our path are marked with white chalk powder for our welcome, we arrive at the beautiful mosque where we are expected with comfortable chairs to sit to change into black rubber slippers - the high guests are exempt from walking in socks or barefoot. Small groups of young students sit and study with their teachers in various corners of the mosque, undisturbed by the visitors at this early morning hour.

An old Sikh temple with the elaborately carved rosewood bed for the Holy Book (our grandmothers would not have seen much of a difference to their matrimonial beds) makes for a comfortable rest. We are very warmly welcomed and hear praise about the long history of tolerance between religions that is so sadly threatened these days.

The journey continues, along the magical white marks...

... and through such narrow alleys, that one assumes neighbors really, really get to know each other very well, to the Badshahi Mosque, one of the oldest in the city, excavations bring marks of old baths and steam rooms as part of the site and in the strikingly plain painted main hall a guard of the mosque steps in one of the niches, crosses his arms in front of his chest and starts singing, that love be deeper than the ocean, as even the deepest part of the sea could be measured, but never the depth of love. Touching silence for a long moment, after the song.

A shopkeeper is closing her beauty parlor...

...and we continue for a last visit of the day to Sheikhupura for the Deer Tower, a one hour drive outside Lahore, a maharaja's place for hunting and the setting sun evokes the times when wild animals gathered at the lake, ideally placed for the princely hunters to aim and shoot with their arrows.

The care and protection leaves nothing to be desired for or worried about and we are queenly accompanied on every step of our walk through history, streets and buildings and guided by wonderfully caring hosts.

A special trained force leaves, literally, no place for fear - that counts for the protector as well as for the protected, I assume.